


Don't Think About it too Hard

by ClairVictoria



Category: The Filthy Frank Show (Web Series)
Genre: (maybe?) - Freeform, Aro!Joji, M/M, drunk!joji, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7790263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClairVictoria/pseuds/ClairVictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joji's drunk and shows up at Ian's house in the middle of the night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think About it too Hard

The dream had been good. Not the normal shit Ian was used to; ones where he went to the fucking grocery store, or watched some TV. The concrete details of the aforementioned dream slipped away the moment that his piercing ringtone reverberated through the bedroom.   
The sleep addled twenty four year old slapped the phone in a drowsy attempt to shut it up; the stinging in his palm woke him up enough that falling back asleep would’ve been out of the question.  
Ian rolled over and yawned. Stretching like a cat, he turned over in his empty bed, eyes swollen and heavy still from sleep.   
“The fuck?” He had been aiming for an indignant tone but it just came out soft and sleepy.   
“Hey fag come open your door.” A deep voice slurred through the phone.   
“George?”   
“Let me innnnn!” The asian man whined as loud knocking could be heard even from the bedroom.   
“Fuck that.” Neither spoke for a moment, before a grumbling Ian pushed himself from the warmth of his bed.   
The front door swung open to reveal an unstable Joji gripping the frame like a leaf clinging to a dying branch. The harsh scent of liquor clung to his sweater and hit Ian in a wave causing his eyes to sting and water slightly. He wafted the aroma towards his nose, looking contemplative, “Do I detect slight floral, earthy tones?” The other laughed a little too loud and a little too long. He brought his cigarette to chapped lips and pulling at it hungrily; smoke billowed and eddied around him. 

“Y-You gonna let me in or do I have to a-answer riddles three?” The inebriated man snickered, before the other motioned him inside with a theatrical, amplified sweeping gesture. The two walked into the living room, well Ian walked while Joji stumbled, the host automatically went to the poorly stocked kitchen with low hopes of finding any food. 

“We have cheezits, a moldy apricot, and beer,” Ian deadpanned, while selecting a clean glass and pouring some tap water for his friend (who was currently fascinated by the cuffs of his sweater.) The man settled the glass in front of Joji, putting a prayer out that he wouldn’t be cleaning up vomit tonight, not that he wasn’t used to it by this point. 

“So what brings you here, my compadré?” Ian asks breaking Joji out of his drunken trance.   
“Drunk. No taxi. Called Max to come pick me up, he’s in Australia annoyingly enough-”   
“No shit.” Ian snorted, Joji carried on ignoring his friends interruption.   
“-and he told me to come here if I didn’t wanna go home.”   
“Why didn’t you just find someone to go home with you, if you were lonely.” Ian waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “It’s not like they’re in short supply.” A pang of bitterness sprouted in his gut, at the thought. That’s new. Ian ignored the feeling and let Joji continue. He’d always found the other attractive objectively speaking. Sure, he wouldn’t mind fucking or being fucked by him. Roughly against a wall. Or even just going for dinner, and holding hands, and maybe kissing his nose. But... shit.   
“Didn’t feel like it.” Joji murmured, “They all want fucking relationships and I can’t deal with that. The whole stress of it.” The liquor must have loosened his tongue, as the words were spilling from his mouth as though they’d been built up for a while. “Y’know, I just want to have no labels, hang out, and fuck with a friend. Exclusive though. Exclusive friends...with benefits.” His eyes grew wide as though he just came upon a revelation.   
“That’s the dream man.” Ian agreed, swinging his feet up onto the table.   
Suddenly Joji’s lips crashed on Ian’s like a storm: hungry, desperate, if storms had tongues the metaphor would be perfect. A barely audible sound of surprise reverberated between the two, before he sank into it quickly. Both shifting to get better angles, Joji’s hands tangling into Ian’s now disheveled hair, while Ian’s wrapped pitifully around his slim waist. A soft groan escaping chapped lips (neither could tell from whom), as Joji traveled to Ian’s neck sucking marks into the pale skin before kissing over them gently.  
He pulled back, looked at Ian before kissing him once more quickly, sweetly. Ian leaned forward for more automatically, and they met eyes for a long second before Joji returned to his previous slouched spot. Several inches of unused space sat between them; space that had breached not a moment past.   
Ian shifted, adjusting his suddenly tight pants uncomfortably. “The fuck was that?”   
“Just testing something.” Joji said immediately staring off straight ahead, his lips stretched into a smug grin “it was for science.”   
The tension could be cut with a butter knife and spread on motherfucking toast, attempting to break it he said faux offended: “What are you fucking gay?”  
“Who knows,” Joji shrugged seeming unconcerned. He made a pointed glance at Ian’s pants, “You might be though.”   
Still flustered, Ian blushed profusely. He looked down at his crotch, “So, are you going to do anything about that then?” Joji turned to him quickly, pupils almost completely eclipsing his dark irises.   
“Do I have your consent?” He asked raising his eyebrows and barely fighting down the urge to smile, “and remember to be enthusias-” Ian didn’t even wait for the end rather wrapping himself around his friend and smiled against his lips.   
“Oh, hell yeah.” He murmured feeling his heart flutter pitifully,   
“And you know, this doesn’t mean anything yeah?” Joji pulled back slightly all humor leaving his dark eyes. Ian forced his face to remain neutral as his stomach dropped to his feet, chest tightening painfully. And with the taste of Joji’s cigarettes still on Ian’s tongue, and his touch burning into his skin in the best fucking way: he agreed.


End file.
